Thoughts on the Cane, Part 2

So after that extensive discussion on the cane last week (and thank you all for the wonderful feedback), guess what New Guy brought with him this evening??

I suppose I should have seen that coming.

I was in trouble from the outset, tonight. Do any of you who play often notice that sometimes, for reasons unknown, your tolerance is through the roof and other times, it's practically nonexistent? Tonight was the latter, for me. Everything hurt hurt HURT; things he uses every week that I can usually absorb. Even his hand hurt. Oh yeah, I was screwed. Because I still couldn't stop sassing him.

But really, how could I not? I mean, again with the damn questions! "Just once," I snapped, "just once I'd love to hear you ask a question where you don't already know the answer!" He didn't approve of that remark. How did I know that? Guess.

I had to fight hard not to scream, and I kicked so fiercely, he accidentally clouted my foot with something. "That'll teach you to keep your feet down!" he said. Ow. He was right about that. It is my humble opinion that bastinado sucks all to hell.

He had two canes -- a thin whippy one and a thicker bamboo one. UGH! I hated that effing bamboo one -- it felt like being hit with a broom handle! Of course, he probably wouldn't have used that one... except I broke the thinner one. :-D  Tsk tsk.

Stupid me, I'd told him I had a cane as well, so he made me go fetch it out of the closet. After plenty of strap and tawse, that is. After my bum was so on fire, I thought I'd set off the smoke alarm.

My finale was 20 cane strokes. I was just about ready to lose it, and I begged him after stroke three, "Please, not so fast, please..." I guess some would say that's topping from the bottom. Well, screw them. Let them take the damn caning and see how they feel about it. Anyway, good and compassionate top that New Guy is, he did slow down a bit, so I could catch my breath in between. Did I want him to slow down? Yes. Did I want him to stop? No.

Stroke 16 was low -- I think I must have said something or another that was sassy, I don't remember. I smashed my face into the pillow and screamed. Then came stroke 17... and I heard him laugh. "Well, you broke this one too."

(No worries. It's just what's called tramlines... and two hours later, they've faded. No blood.)

I'd broken two canes in one session. I've never done that before. But I didn't get to crow about it just yet. He gave me the final three cuts with that godawful bamboo cane (the only cane left!) and I started to cry.

The good kind of crying, though. The releasing kind. Oh, it hurt... but clearly, I needed the tears, even though I hadn't known it. But he knew.

Don't you worry about me. Shortly thereafter, once I'd calmed down, then it was time to crow.

In fact, I was downright hysterical.

Of course, the night was still fairly young, and we had time afterward to relax a bit. He sat on the couch and I curled up on my side and put my head in his lap. Nice, right? Cozy? But he couldn't leave well enough alone. Kept reaching out and idly swatting the one cheek he could reach. When I protested, he said, "Oh, does it hurt when I do that?"

I replied by smacking him up the back of his head and repeating, "Does it hurt when I do that?"

Round Two. So unfair.

Then he kept poking his finger onto the one low cane stripe. I responded by poking my finger into his stomach. He didn't like that, either. Sheesh! He started it!

I really don't know why I'm so damn fond of this man. But I am. For many reasons... not the least being that he's a very good sport. :-)

This session ought to hold me for a while. At least a couple of days...

Thoughts on the cane

Who has experienced it? Who likes it, hates it, fears it? Who hasn't experienced it and thinks it's most likely the most horrible implement on earth?

The cane is a fascinating and often misunderstood implement. For some, its mention invokes images of the cane's potential brutality as showcased in Lupus/Rigid East videos, the harsh punishments in Singapore, or the painful corrections English schoolchildren have endured. But there are two things to remember about canes: 1) they are not all created equal. Like paddles and straps, they come in many different thicknesses and materials; and 2) canes are as harsh, sensual or anything in between as the individuals who wield them.

When I first got into TTWD (This Thing We Do, in case you haven't heard that abbreviation), canes terrified me. I'd seen the icky pictures and heard about how painful and punitive they were, and there was no appeal whatsoever. John, however, was experienced with them and after we'd been together a few months, he was able to convince me to let him try one on me.

We were in a friend's dungeon and I had my hands wrapped around a suspension bar over my head. I was well warmed up and I knew John wouldn't hurt me, but I was scared out of my mind. Still, my curiosity overrode the fear and I consented.

John knew all about proper technique -- about spacing the strokes, about waiting an extra few seconds to let the waves of pain settle in before applying the next stroke. And it was only six. But afterward, I burst into tears. When he tried to get me to let go of the suspension bar, he discovered that my hands were gripping it so tightly, he had to peel my fingers off one by one. Finally he got me down and took me into his lap, holding me close. I don't know why I came so completely unglued; I guess I was even more afraid than I'd thought.

How far I've come.

A cane doesn't have to cause horrible bruising, and it most definitely does not have to break skin. Used judiciously and with proper technique, it can impart pretty pink stripes in an even design.

It also can be used in a very sensual way, with a rapid tap-tap-tapping motion that warms and stings and stimulates. Throwing in a hard strike now and then when least expected adds the element of mindf***.

I've been lucky enough to play with some of the best caners, including Keith Jones. I would trust that man with anything in his hands, and he's brilliant with a cane. I have many fond memories, including one time when he had me biting on a leather paddle so I wouldn't scream. (gasp) I had marks for eight days after that scene. Ah, the good old days.

Canes are especially fun when you break them.

The more breakage, the better.

Of course, after you break them, you do have to face the wrath of the top who doesn't like losing his toys. But it's worth it. :-) Well, except when their backup cane is made of carbon fiber, as Craig's was. Holy crap, how I hated that thing!!! Unbreakable, too. Pure evil.

I suppose in a true punishment, there is no warmup and the cane is applied directly to cold skin. I experienced that once. Never again. How anyone can do that to children is beyond me... but we won't go there.

There is definitely a unique sensation with a cane. Unlike any other implement I can think of, the cane imparts a sort of double pain. First, you feel the sting of it striking the skin. Then, a second or two later, you feel a deeper pain penetrating the muscle. That's why caning too quickly or striking the same spot over and over is excruciating. Giving the bottom a second or two to catch their breath between strokes is a bit of kindness within the sadism. :-)

Overall... in the right hands, canes can be painfully delicious. And in the wrong ones, they can be pure torture. Pretty much like anything else.

Your thoughts? Experiences?